


The simplest solution isn't always the obvious one

by dapperanachronism



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Post TWS, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5105324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapperanachronism/pseuds/dapperanachronism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the ways that Steve had envisioned finding Bucky, he’d failed to consider the most simple and straightforward one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The simplest solution isn't always the obvious one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EmWy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmWy/gifts).



> This was written as a belated birthday gift to Em. I started it on his birthday, so that counts right?

Of all the ways that Steve had envisioned finding Bucky, he’d failed to consider the most simple. He’d spent an unhealthy amount of time obsessing over almost every conceivable way he could imagine a reunion playing out. 

On the good days, he imagined tracking Bucky back to whatever motel or room or house or to whatever space he'd set up camp. He’d find Bucky waiting there, half expecting him but still nervous. They’d both be nervous, the air would be thick with awkwardness but then Steve would smile, Bucky would smile back and somehow they’d find a rhythm again.

On the bad days, he imagined they'd find Bucky curled up in a cold dark corner of a warehouse, hurt, confused and lost. Unsure of himself, who he was, what he was supposed to do. Maybe his brain was tangled up, maybe HYDRA had tried to take him in. He’d look up at Steve with wild eyes, Steve would crouch next to him, slowly coax him back to the moment and convince him to come somewhere safe -- to come home.

On the his absolute worst days, the ones he didn't like acknowledging even to himself let alone admitting to Sam, he feared that when they actually found Bucky, it would be his body laying out somewhere, maybe in the basement of some abandoned HYDRA base. He'd be still and cold, dead for real this time because Steve hadn't found him soon enough. Dead because he’d needed help and Steve had failed him again Those were the fears that snuck into his dreams,waking him up with cold sweats and sharp gasps, keeping him company through long nights when he couldn’t sleep even though his body was crying for rest.

What actually happened wasn't anywhere near so grim.

Sam, even the voice of reason had insisted on periodically stopping their search and returning to DC to regroup, to rest and recover, and to “keep your dumb ass from chasing your tail in circles.” Loath as he was to admit it, Sam had a point, and as much as he was committed to supporting Steve's cause Sam still had other people in his life who needed him. He had made a flying trip home to visit his mother and even though he’d tried to convince Steve to come along, Steve had elected to stay in DC. To mope, Sam had teased with a quiet understanding. 

Friday night found Steve lounging in Sam's living room huddled under a blanket while the wind and rain of an autumn storm rattled against the windows. All of the information they'd managed to gather on the Winter Soldier – and admittedly it wasn't much – was splayed out across the coffee table where Steve had abandoned it in his discouragement. Weeks of cold leads and chasing shadows, and he was no closer to an answer than he was the first day Nat had handed over that file.

Lost in thought and coffee growing cold beside him, Steve almost didn't hear the soft knock that was nearly swallowed by the storm. Once it registered, he sprang into action, immediately on alert. Sam wasn't due back yet, Natasha would have texted, HYDRA likely wouldn't have done him the courtesy of knocking, and he really doubted the girl scouts were out selling cookies in this kind of weather. It probably wasn’t a threat, he convinced himself creeping slowly towards the door. 

That was how it happened. All the scenarios his brain had come up with for finding Bucky and he'd never once considered the simplicity of Bucky standing on his doorstep in the pouring rain. For a long moment they stared at one another in silence, Steve half out of the doorway and Bucky with his shoulders hunched and shivering on the porch until his rough voice broke Steve out of his daze.

“I know you.” Bucky said carefully, almost hopefully, and that was all Steve needed. He surged forward and wrapped his arms around Bucky, tugging him into a protective hug.

“You know me.” The words were muffled as Steve pressed his face into Bucky's shoulder and for half a moment Bucky seemed to relax fractionally., But in an instant the moment was gone and Bucky was pulling back, shaking slightly. 

“I-” The words seemed to stick in his throat and Steve reached out again, desperate to offer contact and comfort only to have Bucky shy away. “I can’t-” His eyes dropped, fixed intently on Steve’s midsection, unnoticing of the strands of wet hair plastered to his own face. A minute ticked by, and then another with Bucky still transfixed on the same spot. The realisation dawned and slowly, Steve peeled the bottom of his shirt up and away from his abdomen, revealing smooth unmarked skin. 

“Healed.” He said softly, allowing Bucky a long moment to study him. When at last Bucky tore his eyes away and looked back up at Steve, it was with trepidation. “Come inside.” Steve coaxed, one step shy of pleading now but he made no further move to reach out or close the space between them despite every instinct screaming at him to so. His limbs were heavy and clumsy at his side, unsure of what he was supposed to do. Bucky for his own part looked wild and terrified under the porch light, one second away from bolting. “Please Buck just to dry off at least?”

Conflicted, Bucky edged forward, stopping just shy of Steve’s space. Steve’s heart hammered in his chest as his brain caught up to the moment, the realisation and acceptance that this was Bucky. His Bucky. Standing in front of him once more. A slight nod, little more than a drop of his chin was all Steve needed before he was leading Bucky into the house.

“Shower? It’ll help you warm up, and I’ll get you dry clothes.” Steve offered next, concerned by the ever so slight and well masked tremble in Bucky’s limbs. Another slight nod and Bucky followed Steve through the house to the bathroom, fumbling to strip off wet clothes with stuff fingers while Steve ran the water for him. “Towels are just here, I’ll leave clothes on the counter.” He said before excusing himself to find the warmest pair of sweats and the softest sweater he could manage. His own hands were shaking slightly as he set the clothes out before quickly retreating to pull himself together before Bucky came out. All the weeks he'd spent chasing cold leads and busting up abandoned HYDRA holes searching for a ghost with nothing to show for it and he'd forgotten one simple truth – Bucky would always find him. It wasn't that Bucky hadn't wanted to be found like Steve was beginning to fear, it was that he was waiting until he was ready. Because inevitably, they would always be drawn to each other. They’d always find their way back.

The water shut off just as Steve was heating up some soup on the stove top. A minute later followed the soft sound of Bucky's feet along the floor as he quietly slipped into the kitchen. “Soup?” He asked, turning to offer Bucky a bowl. “It'll help warm you up.” Bucky hesitated before nodding, dropping into one of the chairs at the table while Steve set out water and a plate of thick, warm bread. “You're not hurt.” He observed, noting that Bucky hadn't appeared to have lost much weight either. Apart from the pinched look around his eyes, the obvious exhaustion and the nerves he looked better than Steve dared to hope, though he was obviously far from okay. 

“Know how to look after myself Rogers. Got a sense of self preservation. Unlike some people.” Bucky glanced up with a brief withering look. Turning his attention back to the soup, Bucky gave it a suspicious sniff before tasting a tiny spoonful. “You made this.” It wasn't a question and Bucky quickly dug in with a single minded devotion. Doing his best to hide his smile Steve tucked into his own, paying more attention to Bucky inhaling the food than to his own actions. For a moment, it felt almost normal, like this wasn't the first time they'd seen each other since they'd nearly ended up dead in a literal blaze.

Once Bucky finally pushed the bowl away he looked back up, uncertain of what was expected of him and looking like he was torn between falling over asleep and wanting to bolt into the night. Wanting to avoid any chance of the latter Steve rose and motioned for Bucky to follow him to the living room, nudging him gently to the couch and draping a blanket over him. For ten straight minutes the only sound was the food network on low in the background. Steve stretched out, resting his feet up on the coffee table. He had half a mind to quickly clear all the files and spirit them away, but they’d caught Bucky’s attention. He shuffled through them, the slight crease on his brow become more pronounced. Best to leave them then. Bucky had come of his own free will, and Steve was content to sit silently and let him work through whatever thoughts were vexing him.

The minutes ticked by, and when at last Bucky did speak his tone was miraculously even, despite the uncertainty in his expression. “You really didn't have much to go on, did you.”

“I really didn't.” Steve agreed. “You were well guarded, even inside Hydra not many people knew about you. And after Hydra was exposed, they did a pretty damn good job wiping everything before scattering and going to ground. Every lead just turned cold. Every door I kicked down lead to empty rooms.”

“Some of that's my fault.” Bucky shrugged, half to himself. “After I... decided... that I wasn't going back, I had to cover my tracks. Destroy ever record of myself. Not exactly easy when you don't remember most of what you've done.” He smiled without humour and the ache in Steve's chest that had been a constant weight ever since he'd learned Bucky was alive nearly burst.

“You did what you had to do. Between that, and what I've managed to do, we should be okay.” Whether Bucky believed that or not, it was impossible to be sure. But they were both safe for now and that counted for something.

The exhaustion of the months prior weighed heavily on them, settling around the awkward space between them that was born from a mixture of relief of being safe together, and uncertainty over what came next. Steve didn't even remember falling asleep curled up on one end of the couch, Bucky hunched over himself at the other.

It was the sound of the door that startled Bucky awake, and split second later, being thrown to the ground face first that woke Steve. The first thing he was aware of was Bucky crouched over him, gun trained on the hall that lead to the door. The second thing was -

“-don't remember giving you a key.”

“Bucky... stand down. It's Sam.” Steve croaked, on high alert but voice still rough with sleep.  
Sam, to his credit, didn't move, kept his hands fully visible until Bucky lowered the gun and moved just far enough so that Steve could push himself up.

“Next time, warn a guy yeah?” Sam dropped his bags and Steve, now on his feet, followed him into the kitchen.

“I'm sorry, I should have called.”

“Probably. But I'll let it slide this time.” The corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile despite the cautious tension in his shoulders. Muted footsteps shuffling through the hall drew Sam’s attention and he turned, catching Bucky halfway to the door.“Where do you think you're off too?” Bucky stared back, trying to formulate a response that just wasn't for coming out.

“If you want to leave,” Sam continued conversationally, “You're welcome to. No one's gonna make you stay. And know that this door will always be open to you. But this guy here has been killing himself trying to find you and now that you're here, it would probably be better if you stayed.” Bucky waved where he stood, eyes darting from the door over to Steve and back again.

“I ain't saying it's gonna be easy. I'm just saying this is probably the best place for you to be right now. And he’d like for you to stay. We both would.”

Bucky agreed with another of his tiny nods, and for the first time in months the weight in Steve's chest felt a little lighter.

==

Sam had been right. It wasn't easy.

“Fuck Steve, would you stop being a stubborn asshole for once in your life?”

“Would you actually believe me for once when I tell you I'm fine?”

“I would, if you weren't lying to me all the goddamn time.” Bucky's fist was curled tight at his side and he resisted the urge to put it through a wall. The only thing that would achieve would be making Steve even less fine, with a side of having a gaping hole in the wall that he’d then have to fix. 

“You're not fine, and I can't deal with this double fucking standard.”

“It's not-”

“Yes, it is.” Bucky cut him off abruptly. “You're treating me like I'm breakable. You're walking on eggshells, you're scared to say anything to me, to do anything. Hell, you you act like you're scared of even touching me. You're wound up tighter than the day I got here.”

“I'm just trying to give you space.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” He stood up straight and tense, his eyes boring holes into Steve as he spoke. “Every time I have a bad day, or I can't sleep, or I lose myself you tell me it's okay. That I'm allowed to not be okay sometimes. That it’s part of the process, it’s part of healing, hell it’s part of being human. And I try to believe you, I really do. But how the hell am I supposed to keep on believing that when you insist on pretending to be fine when you're not?” The fact that they were even able to have this conversation was a vast improvement on the first few tense weeks, before he started slowly relearning who he was before and who he was becoming now.

“Of course I'm not fine!” Steve finally snapped. “Jesus Buck, I haven't been fine since the day I let you die.”

“See, this is exactly the shit I'm talking about.” Bucky spat back. “Every time I've woken up in the middle of the night wanting to vomit over everything I remember and you've reminded me that it wasn't my fault. You keep spouting off about shit that I couldn't control. And you're right you know? Sometimes I actually believe that. You tell me to let my guilt go while you keep stoking yours. How am I supposed keep believing something I couldn't control, that wasn't my fault?”

“Bucky.. I-”

“No, I'm not through.” Steve's mouth snapped shut and his eyes widened in disbelief. Night after night he’d sat up with Bucky, sitting in total silence, sometimes listening to him fumble his way through how he felt, holding him while he sobbed - none of that compared to the level of raw emotion Bucky was flaying him with now. “You know what the very last decision I made for myself was? The last thing that I chose to do of my own free will? I chose to fight with you. I chose to protect you. I died for that choice and I would choose the same thing again in a heartbeat. My decision, Steve. And you don't get to take that away from me. Not ever.”

Before Steve could respond Bucky had turned and was halfway out the door, trying to put as much space as he could between himself and everything that he couldn’t ever get away from. There was times that Bucky took off, needing air, trying to outrun himself and Steve would follow. This wasn’t one of them. 

The atmosphere in the house that night was subdued, filled with undercurrent of tension. When Sam had returned he wisely chose not to comment on it, instead making sure that both Steve and Bucky at least ate something while holing themselves up in their respective rooms, all the while muttering under his breath about damn bullheaded super soldiers.

That night, Bucky couldn’t come close to sleep. Which, truth be told, was pretty par for the course. His mind was wracked with guilt of a different sort from snapping at Steve the way he had. But he'd actually believed what he said and Steve had taught him to stand by that. At least one of them was following Steve’s advice. It was well into the middle of the night when he was roused from his thoughts by a gentle knock, the creak of the door and a soft voice. 

“Hey Buck... can I come in?”

Bucky responded by rolling over and sitting up, which Steve took as permission. Shuffling into the room, he shut the door again and made his way over to the bed, perching awkwardly on the edge. The hint of streetlights that peeked through the curtains was enough for Bucky to see the pained expression that indicated Steve was trying to work his way up to something.

“I'm not okay.” He said at last, his voice strained and tight. It was all Bucky needed. Wrapping an arm around Steve's shoulders Bucky hauled him up on the bed and wrapped himself around Steve's frame.

“Course you're not okay. Jesus, all the shit you've had to deal with. Me, Shield, Hydra...”

“Mostly you.”

“Mostly me.” Bucky agreed. “Look, I know you're trying to look after me. I can't thank you enough. I was... lost. Hell, I didn't know how lost I really was, but you anchored me again. Like you always have. Gave me a life back. But I can't keep doing this. I can't get better knowing you're going to pieces beside me. It's killing me.”

A choked sob escaped from Steve as he turned his face against Bucky's shoulders. A moment later his whole body was shaking, Bucky rubbing gentle circles between Steve's shoulder blades in an achingly familiar motion. He wasn't quite sure when he'd started crying too, but when Steve finally sat up again Bucky's cheeks were damp. Wiping his eyes, Bucky leaned over and pressed his lips to the crown of Steve's head.

“Neither of us is okay.” He murmured softly, breathing in the scent of Steve's hair. “But you've got me convinced we’re both gonna be fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr: http://www.dapperanachronism.tumblr.com


End file.
